What You Are
by Thorkone
Summary: Anna is rocked by a break-up early in her SHIELD career. She makes a surprising new friend when she decides to drown her sorrows at a local bar. One-shot, Anna & Phil


"I don't understand," I paused, waiting for an explanation. Any explanation.

"Annie, it's just not working. You're going to want babies, and a house, and a dog, and I don't want those things," Jack sighed as though I was missing a really simple concept.

"Except you don't know that. You don't know if I want kids. You don't know how I feel about houses. I could be allergic to dogs," I protested. Jack and I had been dating for about a year, and he'd been making noise about moving in together for months. Things had been going really well until I'd asked if he would come to my cousin's wedding with me. Then he'd gone all weird and evasive. And now apparently he was breaking up with me over the potential that someday I might want a dog.

"I know your type, Annie. You're a good girl, and you were raised by good people. And you expect that you'll meet a good man and settle down to a mortgage and two-point-five kids. It's just the way girls like you are," Jack propped his arm against my cubicle wall. Points for the super classy at-work break up. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm glad you know me so much better than I know myself," I snapped. "I'd like to point out that you're the one who's been talking about getting an apartment together."

"Annie, don't be that way."

"Jack, we've been together for a year –"

"Fourteen months, six days, actually," he interrupted.

"Right. So we've been together over a year. And now you're freaking out because I asked you to go with me to my cousin's wedding. But last month you were saying we'd be so much better off just moving in together. Forgive me if I'm confused by your mixed signals, but this is ridiculous." I wanted to step on his foot. Or kick him. Or something. Anything that was as equally painful as his words.

"Honey, don't be like this, it makes you look desperate," he chided. I could feel my temper bubbling to the surface and cocked an eyebrow. I looked away and my eye caught the card he'd given me on Valentine's Day. I pulled it off my corkboard and thrust it at him.

"Go ahead a reread what you wrote in there. I can pretty much recite it, so perhaps we can go over that together. It says, 'Annie-bananie, you know I don't waste words, but today it felt important to let you know just how much I love you. Completely. Entirely. Devotedly. With all of my heart. You put Helen of Troy to shame with your beauty and I would fight a thousand wars for you. I love you.' Those are your words, Jack. So what changed?" I could feel tears of rage prickling the corners of my eyes and ground my teeth to maintain my composure. My nose tingled. "I am not the desperate one, Jack Jackson. You rushed into this relationship way faster than I did. And apparently now you want to rush out just as quickly? Not without an explanation."

Jack dropped the card into my shredder and the motor purred to life, cross-cutting the pink cardstock into a million little pieces.

"I don't owe you anything, Anna. I just don't love you anymore." He turned and walked away. He was only a few steps away when he turned back to me. "I've got your things from my apartment in my office. I'll bring them by this afternoon. Just throw my stuff out."

I slumped into my chair and dropped my head to my desk. I couldn't stop myself from crying, but I didn't need the entire office to watch. Unfortunately, I also lacked the initiative to run and hide in the bathroom.

XXX

"Annie, this is insane. You've been moping for weeks," Erin poked me with a french fry. I glared at her. She was forcing me to socialize at lunch hour. I wasn't normally opposed to lunch hour visits, but she was adamant I go out with her. And I didn't want to. I wanted to stay at home in my jammies and eat ice cream straight from the tub. I'd never been dumped before, but Hollywood led me to believe that was appropriate behaviour when a guy ditched you.

"I'm not moping."

"You are! And it's ridiculous. So you were together for a year. You weren't living together, you weren't married. Good riddance! You need to start living again!" Erin was so perky and positive I wanted to poke her eye out with my fork. I opted to glare and go back to eating my lunch instead.

"I think ice cream and Colin Firth's Darcy is living, thank you very much," I protested. Erin shook her head.

"It's Friday. I am coming home with you tonight. I am going through your closet and finding your sluttiest outfit, and we are going to Karaoke night at The Badge," she informed me. The Badge was the bar that pretty much everyone from every agency hung out at. It was like a living breathing James Bond night every night. Except Karaoke night, which was just cheesy and ridiculous. I choked on a fry.

"I am not going to karaoke," I refused. Erin shook her head again.

"I am not accepting no for an answer. I need a wingman. There's a cute FBI guy that I've had my eye on and he said he never misses a karaoke night. So our mission is to get both of us laid. You need some serious revenge sex, and I need the G-man." Erin set her jaw. I knew better than to fight with her. And she was right. Not that I needed revenge sex, but that I needed to get out and do something instead of sitting at home wallowing in my broken heart.

XXX

The FBI guy was very generous with the drinks. Even though he was hitting on Erin, every time he refilled her drink, he bought be another as well. Before I knew it we were doing tequila shots and I suddenly thought singing something was a great idea. Erin followed me up onto the stage. I don't remember if it was for moral support or because we were supposed to be singing together, but when the opening strains of Joan Jet came out of the speakers, I forgot everything else in the room. Erin and I were dancing on the speaker boxes, and I had a death grip on the microphone.

"I think of you every night and day, you took my heart and you took my pride away-ee-ay-ee-ay-ee-ay!" I was seriously a rockstar. Erin hopped up onto the speaker I was on and joined me for the chorus.

"I hate myself for lovin' you! Can't break free from the things that you do! I wanna walk but I run back to you that's why I hate myself for lovin' you!" I refused to share the mic. The song wound down and the FBI guy cheered. Everyone in the bar cheered and screamed and hollered. I held my hands out to stop them and stepped off the stage, dropping the mic in the process. I slipped and nearly fell, but a firm hand caught my elbow. I looked up to thank whoever it was and found myself staring into a familiar set of blue eyes. I smiled broadly and leaned into him to help balance myself.

"That was," Coulson paused, "angry." He led me to a table and sat me down in a chair and settled into the chair opposite me. He waved a finger at the waitress and she nodded back.

"Hey Coulson!" I smiled, "Did you still want to buy me that drink?"

"Oh, I think you might have had enough already, Ms. Ellis." He handed me a glass anyhow. I took a sip. It was water. I made a face and put the glass down.

"So you don't want to buy me a drink then?" I asked. "Because I would let you buy me a drink tonight." I put my hand on his and smiled.

"How about we talk about something first," he stammered and snatched his hand back. I took another sip of water and looked up at the ceiling trying to think of something that would interest him. A thought entered my mind and I grinned.

"My bra isn't green tonight," I offered. Coulson blushed. "It's fuchsia." I popped open the top button of my blouse. Coulson's hand snaked across the table and stilled my hands. He moved them and rebuttoned my blouse.

"Oh, you are a mess tonight," he commented, just low enough that I barely understood the words. I smiled. He looked better than I remembered. His tie was slackened at the neck and the top button of his shirt was popped open. A bottle of beer was open in front of him, and he had a loose hold on it, the veins of the back of his hand popping against the curve of his palm.

"Am I pretty, Coulson?" I asked. Maybe I wasn't pretty. Maybe that's why Jack had dumped me. Coulson flushed again and looked around, possibly for an escape.

"Yes, Ms. Ellis, you're very pretty," he admitted. He didn't appear to be lying.

"Aw, thanks. You're pretty too, Phil," I bit my lip and looked at him. He was a little blurry, but definitely attractive.

"You're looking a little –"

I interrupted him by leaning over the fake ficus beside the table and puking.

" – green," he finished. I saw him looking around, probably for Erin. I knew I should be mortified, but my stomach was threatening to rebel again and my head was swimming. I closed my eyes and laid my head across my hands on the table.

XXX

I awoke to the smell of bacon. I opened my eyes, groaned and pulled my pillow over my face. The air hurt. The thin shaft of sunlight that was leaking in under the light-blocking blind was like a sword through my brain. I rolled over and lifted my eyelids just enough to see a red bucket on the floor beside the bed. I forced my eyes to open and looked around. I was in a tee shirt and my panties; my clothes were pooled on the floor. Erin must have brought me home and tucked me into bed.

I made my way to the bathroom with careful precision, avoiding the spots on the floor that I knew would creak. I took a long drink of tepid water from the tap in the bathroom sink and then headed to the kitchen. There was bacon cooling on a piece of paper towel and rich aroma of fresh coffee cut across my bleary senses. I poured myself a cup and leaned against the kitchen counter, inhaling the heavy, strong tang of my cup. I reached for a slice of bacon and stuffed it in my mouth. I needed the grease on a hung over stomach before I could drink my coffee. I closed my eyes as I chewed, savouring the mix flavours of coffee and bacon.

"You look much better. How is your stomach?" A male voice came from the far entry of my galley kitchen. My eyes popped open and identified Agent Coulson as my coffee cup slipped from my hands and I tried to pull my t-shirt down over my thighs.

"Jesus Christ! What are you doing here?" I shrieked, flinched and grabbed a tea towel to cover my legs. He pushed past me to the coffee maker and refilled his cup. I jumped away from him and slipped in the spilled coffee. His arm snaked out and caught me, pulling me against him without thinking. I slammed into his hip and pushed away, mortified.

"You needed a lift home. I wanted to be sure you woke up this morning," he explained as I darted around the corner to find jammie pants. "I slept on the couch, Ms. Ellis."

I poked my head back into the kitchen as I pulled my pyjama bottoms on.

"Uh, thanks." I tugged my pants over my hips and stepped back into the kitchen. Coulson was mopping up spilled coffee with the tea towel I'd dropped on the floor. His sleeved were rolled up and he'd lost the tie at some point in the night. A feeling that I wasn't sure if it was lust or the need to puke turned in my stomach. He nodded.

"I'll be going now. I hope you feel better soon," he offered. "I'm sorry Jackson couldn't see you for what you are, Ms. Ellis." He stepped past me and pulled his jacket off a hanger in my coat closet and folded it over his arm before he stepped into the hall. I was left standing in my kitchen wondering what exactly had happened the previous night.


End file.
